


Hook and Shear

by silverr



Category: Fall of Ile-Rien - Martha Wells
Genre: Post canon, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverr/pseuds/silverr
Summary: From the corner of the greenhouse, he watches.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Hook and Shear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serenade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenade/gifts).



Gerard and Florian were uncomfortable any time he mentioned it, so he stopped mentioning it.

Most of the time Niles himself was uncomfortable as well. He liked to examine the unknown fully, systematically, study it until he had full understanding, but his compulsion to go to the greenhouse refused to cooperate by coming fully out of the shadows. 

He did understand, at least, that he was only compelled to go when the pressure of _not_ going, of not knowing what might be happening, became too great. On those days he gave himself permission to slip away, creep behind the bin in the corner furthest from the door, and then, motionless, silent, nearly hidden, peer through the foliage and spy on the man-shaped being that had once been Ixion. 

His primary justification was that someone needed to make certain that all traces of Ixion's former identity, his drives, his ambitions, were truly gone, and he felt this to be reasonable. Ixion had deceived people before. He had deceived the Syprians with friendliness, so it wasn't implausible that he was now deceiving the Rienish with his apparent harmlessness. That had been his way: lull everyone into acceptance, until they relaxed into carelessness. 

Niles was also aware that, at some less noble level, he actually _wanted_ to find something worrying to report, something punishable. Vengeance wasn't an admirable motivation, but it didn't matter as long as he stayed objective. It was like that category of beneficial spells which required an unsavory ingredient as catalyst.

And so he sat in the corner of the greenhouse, and watched.

At times his rage and humiliation at being used as Ixion's puppet roiled so strongly that he felt physically ill. Whenever this happened he would force himself away, before the urge to snatch up a rake, a hoe, a pruning tool became overwhelming.

Everything Ixion tended thrived under his care, which was methodical, patient, thorough. Nurturing, even. Silent and calm to the point of blandness, the only time he came agitated was when imperfection invaded his greenhouse beds. When that happened, at the first sign of disease or pests, silent tears would stripe his face as he ruthlessly culled misshapen or discolored leaves, or uprooted the mushrooms, or scrubbed away the mold.

And yet… and yet, when he took the bucket of diseased material outside to burn, his face, wavering in the heat and smoke from the fire, at times distorted into the grimace of a death's head, whose hollow eyes found Niles and assured him of oblivion.


End file.
